


the committed spark

by stiction



Series: Summer Heat 2020 [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/F, Knight-Queen Relationship, Service Kink, Size Difference, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/pseuds/stiction
Summary: One look at Megaempress across the shoddy throne room, helm and pauldrons above the rest of the mechs milling about, is all it takes before Flowspade disables the reciprocal coding that feeds Shockwave a live vid stream and crosses the room to kneel at those strong feet“Please,” she says. “Take my frame, protoform and armor, to use as you see fit.”“Well, little knight,” Megaempress says. “I suppose I shall.”
Relationships: Flowspade/Megaempress (Transformers)
Series: Summer Heat 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803259
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	the committed spark

**Author's Note:**

> written for the square 'size difference' with megaempress and flowspade, put in by @arcana_magnus on twitter
> 
> come check out my board and put in bingo prompts [@schemingallday](https://twitter.com/schemingallday/status/1275841531245715457?s=20) on twitter!

It comes down to the frame. 

She sees in that frame the promise of something greater. 

One look at Megaempress across the shoddy throne room, helm and pauldrons above the rest of the mechs milling about, is all it takes before Flowspade disables the reciprocal coding that feeds Shockwave a live vid stream and crosses the room to kneel at those strong feet.

“Please,” she says. “Take my frame, protoform and armor, to use as you see fit.”

The room falls silent. Decepticons stop to watch. Flowspade knows the way of things in these places, the gamble of baring a spark. A vow means little in the face of ambition, but true fealty is a rare commodity. If Megaempress sees it… if Flowspade can convince her of it… How could she spare the processing space to the petty interests of Shockwave when a true leader stands before her?

“Look at me.” 

Flowspade looks, and sees a great deal: amusement, intrigue, a calculating assessment of her attributes. 

“Well, little knight,” Megaempress says. “I suppose I shall.”

* * *

What could compare to being frozen in time? 

To bear defeat, for now at least, leaves a sour taste in the back of her intake. 

Flowspade’s joints ache as the fluid within seizes and stops. The thin impulse conduits in her optics won’t respond to her processor. Her fingers twitch and settle in the last warm place they can find: curled tight against her majesty’s chassis. A strange pulse of delight pops in her spark in the moment before the stasis takes hold, when Megaempress rests powerful hands at her elbow, at the dip of her backstrut. 

And then there is nothing else but the slow pulse of another spark in endless recharge.

* * *

There is a moment where Flowspade doubts. 

Only a moment. The instant before the combination cruxes set and joint energon pulses hot into the modified hollow of her frame and the inexorable weight of Megaempress’ will bears down upon her mind. 

She begs forgiveness, later, once the other guards have slunk off for recharge and refuelling and left only the two of them there in the oil baths. 

The look Trickdiamond gives her on the way out, equal parts judgment and suspicion, hardens Flowspade’s determination into something tempered. Something immalleable. 

“My lady,” she says. “Earlier today—”

Megaempress lifts one broad hand. Flowspade quiets. 

“Flowspade,” she says, and Flowspade melts that much more against her back. “Moments of weakness are inevitable. I ask only that they pass quickly. You proved yourself once again in the heat of battle, and you are here now.”

“Your majesty,” Flowspade breathes. Her hands refuse direction and play instead at the base of Megaempress’ strong helm, the well-guarded joints of her neck and shoulders, running down over her neatly plated arms to the inset tires of her gauntlets. Constructed as if by the will of the universe and just as inescapable. “Your majesty,” she says again, and goes willingly where she is pulled. 

Megaempress’ lap is spacious for a mech like Flowspade. She herself, reappropriated from scrap, given spark and brain and purpose by someone so reprehensible as the Decepticon’s lone cyclops, is barely fitting to grace someone so gifted with will. And yet—and yet once again she finds herself put to work. 

The benevolent gaze falls on her as the solvent had only a joor prior. Warm and cleansing, slipping beneath her plating and pooling in every vital component to bring her fully back to life. 

“Flowspade,” Megaempress says. “Do you still offer yourself to me?”

“Yes.”

“Protoform and armor? To use as I see fit?”

“Yes,” Flowspade says without hesitation. What other purpose could there be for her? Her frame, protoform and armor, spark and processor, useless except in service to some higher cause. “What do you require?”

Megaempress’ laugh is little more than a rumble through her chassis. Nevertheless it lights through Flowspade’s legs and struts and hands, all dented still from the struggle. She was made to withstand the weight of heavy arms, but the millennia asleep… so long in stasis has left her weakened. Time and rest and nutrients will restore her resilience. For now it is enough to let the warm oil flow into her joints and surround her struts and cables. It is enough to allow her helm to rest against the hot center of her Lady’s chest, where that supernova spark pulses and turns. 

Flowspade can feel it if she focuses. Even dulled by armor plating she can feel the energy of that white-hot core play through the sensory plexus of her processor. Her hands play automatically with the open vents on Megaempress’ chassis, the thin surface cording in the gaps of her armor. 

“Yes,” Megaempress sighs. “Like that, Flowspade.”

It’s hardly an inconvenience. Some quirk in her deep wiring always leaves Megaempress running hot after battle. What little occasion Flowspade has had to download academic data suggestions that the transition to a gestalt state can amplify pre-existing tendencies. 

All that to say: Megaempress pins her close with a hand that spans the backs of both of Flowspade’s legs and rumbles again at the scrape of armor. Flowspade’s inferior paint is surely marred already. She presses into the touch anyway. To be free, to move of her own accord, is still novel. Breaking helms was a familiar dataset, refreshed earlier. She wants to synchronize another set of sensory benchmarks now. 

Megaempress keeps her close, rocks her until the oil heats and grows frothy with condensation. Dimly Flowspade recognizes the slap and slosh of it against the walls of the bath, but her audials dial more keenly into the quiet rhythm of Megaempress’ fans. 

Spark energy licks again at Flowspade’s internals. Her faceplate tingles and burns. The reservoirs in her frame report energy levels nearing capacity, but—she holds off, holds on to the bulk of her Lady’s chassis plating, the neat vents on the front of her pauldrons, and ratchets back the pulse of charge in her lines until it syncs with Megaempress’ spark rhythm. Soothed, she turns her attention back to the fortified torsion cabling under her hands, traces it down to the curve of Megaempress’ waist. 

“There,” Megaempress hisses. Her hands tighten on Flowspade’s hips. There are dents popped beyond the wear of battle. 

Later, she will deal with those. 

Now, Flowspade leans back and reaches boldly for Megaempress’ face with a hand. It barely spans the breadth of her jaw, one finger touching the corner of her lips in a moment of divine grace before Megaempress turns her helm for an indulgent kiss on Flowspade’s palm. 

She shivers, shocked, and overloads. 

The oil conducts the charge so well that it snaps directly back through her frame. Only the iron hold on her vocalizer stops her from screaming static. As it is she hisses and slips her finger into a well-disguised gap in Megaempress’ chassis, tugs at a wire bundle until Megaempress curses softly and lights the bath with another round of crackling electricity. 

“My Lady,” Flowspade says. She can’t stop the twitching of her frame into the residual echo of energy, but leaves her hand on Megaempress’ neck so that her frame, so much better insulated, can benefit from the aftershocks. 

It's the least she can do to serve. 

**Author's Note:**

> what's up i don't know anything about these girls but you mention a loyal servant and a powerful queen and i'm looking directly at it


End file.
